


You Make Me Live

by hen_of_letters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beaches, Canon Compliant, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel/Dean Winchester Honeymoon, Fix-It, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Married Castiel/Dean Winchester, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and neither does s15e19 Inherit the Earth, by which I mean this complies with the canonical DeanCas Wedding, s15e20 Carry On does not exist, we all witnessed on 14th February 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 18:01:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hen_of_letters/pseuds/hen_of_letters
Summary: There was only one sun lounger!Actually, there were two, it's just that Dean and Cas chose to deny the existence of one of them (just like I refuse to acknowledge the existence of s15e20 or s15e19).This is just some DeanCas Honeymoon fluff.  There's a tiny bit of light angst, but mostly fluffy reflections on the DeanCas Wedding, toes in the sand, little umbrella drinks, and hopeful speculation about the post-canon future of Dean, Cas and their family.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 30





	You Make Me Live

There's sand between Dean's toes. One leg's slung over the side of the sun lounger where he's lying, eyes closed, listening to the tide's soft rush and hush. He grabs at the sand with his toes, lifts his foot, lets the sand fall, then digs in again.

Dean stills when he hears the distinctive flap and slap of an approaching ex-angel in flip-flops. He feels a kiss pressed to his forehead, and smiles as a wave of warmth spreads through him. It's a rush of love and affection and something else, too, which Dean realises is relief - the release of a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, a knot of worry he wasn't aware of until it was washed away.

Cas has only been gone for a few minutes, fetching fresh drinks, complete with brightly coloured umbrellas, from the beachside bar. He'd placed them on the table beside Dean before bending down to kiss him. Dean knows this, and also knows that maybe he's being just a little clingy.

But, hey, he's on his honeymoon. He's allowed. In fact, sappy sentimentalism is practically compulsory. It's an excuse that's been working beautifully for him so far. So, with Cas' lips still against his forehead, he says, "c'mere" and reaches up to pull Cas down into a hug. 

The angle is awkward. Cas loses his balance, one flip-flop, and a small amount of dignity, and he topples over. Luckily there's space for Cas' knees to land on either side of the leg of Dean's that's still on the lounger, and his hands bracket Dean's grinning face. Dean keeps hugging, hauling Cas down on top of him. He can feel as much as hear Cas chuckling, a sensation that intensifies as Dean flings his other leg up over Cas, trapping him.

It's still there, the ache and the taste of despair. How many times had he lost Cas? How many times had it wrecked him? And how much worse had it been, that last time, when he'd finally understood the depth of his loss? When he'd heard his own silent yearning spoken aloud in Cas' words? When he'd been left with Cas' love, but not Cas?

And yes, through the following days he'd carried that love with him, together with Cas' words that had cut right to the bright, hard truth of him. He'd realised that he, too, had something to say, and he'd pulled Cas out of that impossible nothingness and into his arms. Together, with their whole found family, they'd fought for free will and for love. One hack writer hadn't stood a chance against that. But for that one desolate, concrete-cold moment he'd been utterly, hopelessly lost.

He feels it now, black and burning, in the back of his throat. So he holds on to his husband even tighter, reassuring himself that he's here and whole and human and alive. He feels the rise and fall of his own breathing against Cas' chest and steadies it. What's real? We are.

Cas can sense it too, this ink-black blot in their cloudless sky. He chases it away with quick, ticklish kisses pressed to Dean's cheek, and jaw, and neck, and collarbone. Dean laughs and shuffles over a little, manoeuvring Cas until he's lying on his side. Although perhaps not designed for more than one muscular, six-foot-something man, the dark wood lounger is sturdy and wide and just fine for two lovers who had long ago abandoned the concept of personal space.

"Hey, husband," Dean grins at Cas.

"Hello, Dean." Cas' smile is wide and there's wonder in his eyes.

Dean has a moment to be astonished anew by the blue of them before Cas dips down to kiss him properly. Cas' right hand reaches for Dean's left shoulder, where it lingers for a long moment before it moves up to cup his face, and Dean's left finds the skin at Cas' waist where his Hawaiian shirt had ridden up in the fall. Like Dean's, the shirt was a wedding gift from Jack. Dean's is patterned with palm fronds in purple, blue and pink, and Cas' is rainbow-coloured and emblazoned with hummingbirds (the closest thing to bees that Jack could find). They're both wearing shorts, because, hey, they're on their honeymoon.

The flight was a gift from Jack, too: a quick zap now that his nephilim grace had been restored alongside his human soul. Dean was infinitely grateful that there had been no planes required. He didn't face down heaven and hell and his own self loathing and God himself only to have his life snuffed out by a lousy bit of rusty metal, thank you very much.

Dean's thoughts turn to Jack, Sam and Eileen back at the bunker, and to Claire, Kaia, Jody and everybody in Sioux Falls. He's so proud of every one of them. They'll all have to come out here soon for a family holiday, he decides. Not just yet, though.

The delicious press of Cas' lips and the taste of sunscreen and fruit juice pulls him back into the moment. Cas feels the silver band on Dean's hand pressed against his flesh, pinning him to the present. What's real? We are. Side by side, with legs entwined, they bask in brilliant sunshine and blissful kisses.

"I love you," Dean says, when they eventually part, because he can, because he's come to feel the happiness of saying it, and because he doesn't want Cas to go a moment without knowing that he's loved.

"I love you, too." It's not a kneejerk reply or an automatic response. It's a declaration spoken with soul-deep sincerity.

Their hands go still on the skin they've found, and for a while they just gaze into each others' eyes. They're continuing a silent conversation that began in hell with a touch and on earth with a look. Then, Cas leans over to grab the drinks, and they clink the glasses together before they drink.

Earlier that day, they'd walked along the shoreline, hand in hand. Cas' left hand was in Dean's right, and Dean had unlaced their fingers for a moment to run his thumb over the silver circling Cas' ring finger. He'd been quiet and thoughtful when he'd spoken.

"I never thought I'd get married. Never even thought I'd live this long."

"Well, I always thought that my lifespan would be significantly longer," Cas had deadpanned.

This had startled Dean into staring at Cas, but the curl of his lip and the crinkles around his eyes had soothed his panic.

"But I never thought I'd ever live."

Dean had swallowed, and kept staring.

"Dean, I may have existed for millennia, but I didn't start living until I met you. I was never supposed to want anything. I was supposed to be an instrument of God's will. I doubted. I questioned. But you made me want. You made me feel. You made me human. And I am happier than I ever thought possible to be sharing this human life with you."

"Damn it, Cas. You can't just say things like that." There had not been any tears in Dean's eyes at this point. Absolutely none.

"I'm on my honeymoon. I'm allowed."

"Yeah, okay, smartass," Dean had huffed, defeated by his own words, "and, you know, me too."

The open, earnest adoration in Cas' eyes had encouraged him to go further. 

"I mean, I'm happy I'm here with you, too. Beyond happy. And I was never really allowed to want anything for myself, either. What was the point of wanting anything, anyway? I thought that being a hunter could only end one way. But, yeah, it turns out you were something I wanted for myself."

Cas had chuckled at that, and squeezed Dean's hand.

"You have me," Cas had said quietly.

Dean had squeezed back, and said softly, "yeah. You have me, too, Cas." 

Before their words could kick up a black cloud of painful memories, like their feet in the water stirring up silt, Dean had spoken a little louder. 

"I mean, look, you're stuck with me now."

Dean had lifted their joined hands and gestured at the silver glinting in the sunlight. 

Cas had sighed, loudly and with a theatrical flourish. "I suppose you're right," he'd said, as if it had only just occurred to him.

"Nevertheless, I am resigned to my fate. And I have my revenge knowing that you are also stuck with me."

Dean had barked a laugh, which turned into a warm smile as Cas raised their joined hands up to his lips and kissed Dean's knuckles, eyes locked onto his the entire time. Dean had mirrored the gesture, and then lowered their hands again to slow their pace, pull Cas to a halt, and reel him in for a kiss.

They had wrapped their arms around each other and swayed a little as they hugged, and then Cas had grinned wickedly and whirled Dean into the ballroom hold they'd practiced so diligently for their first dance. Their steps had been a little less precise than they'd been at their wedding, hindered as they were by flip-flops, and sand, and the sloshing of shallow waves, but their bodies had moved together beautifully as they'd danced on the shoreline.

Then they had walked on together, spilling all the little secret wants and wishes they'd hoarded in their hearts into that space between the land and the sea. Dean had spoken about his hopes and dreams for Sam, too.

"Eileen's fantastic. Man, I really want her to be my sister-in-law. Do you think Sam knows that?"

"You threw the bouquet at his face, Dean. I'm pretty sure everyone knows that."

"Heh, yeah. He was sneezing for hours." 

It wasn't technically a bouquet, but the arrangement of miniature sunflowers had served its purpose. The entire barn had been decked with sunflowers. After the ceremony, the large sunflower heads had been placed into brown paper bags printed with instructions on drying and planting the seeds, and given to the guests. The less settled hunters were encouraged to plant them by the roadside wherever they happened to wander. 

Whether they thought the idea was beautifully sweet or completely cheesy, everyone attributed it to Cas. It was, however, entirely Dean's design. When Cas had asked why he'd chosen sunflowers, Dean had said, "you're my sunshine," before singing, grinning and slightly off-key, "and I want you to know that my feelings are true. I really love you. Ohhhh … you're my best friend." 

Cas had basked in his memories - of that moment, of them playing the Queen song later in the Impala, of the barn full of vibrant yellow - before Dean's sigh had brought him back to the beach.

"I just want him to be happy, you know?"

Cas had raised an eyebrow.

"You know what I mean."

"I think he is happy. Eileen's part of the family already, but I'm sure it won't be long until they make it official."

"Yeah, and they've got a good thing going back at the bunker. Training up new hunters, building up the network. Eileen still likes getting out there and kicking ass, but Sam's becoming more like Bobby. He's got everything under control, don't you think?"

Cas had nodded, giving Dean the reassurance he'd needed. Dean and Cas hadn't actively hunted since Chuck's defeat, but they'd helped with research here and there. Still, they hadn't actually discussed anything as final-sounding as retirement.

"I believe they're also setting up a supply system for vampires and werewolves who want to live without killing, so they'll have easy access to blood or animal hearts."

"Ew." Dean had wrinkled his nose. "Anyway, like I said, I think they've got the hunting gig covered."

"I still want to help people."

"Oh. Yeah, of course, if that's …"

"But I'm so tired of bloodshed, Dean. Of course I'll fight by your side if you want to continue hunting. I'd prefer to find other ways of helping, though."

Dean had been breathless with relief.

"Yeah. Me too. That sounds awesome, Cas."

They'd continued walking for a long while, spinning little tales of their possible plans. Cas had suggested they open a charming B&B in Vermont, which had earned him a shove that sent him calf-deep into the water. The ensuing brief, splashy skirmish had left them both helpless with laughter.

"I want to build us a house," Dean had admitted. He'd gazed down at the sand, nervous of Cas' reaction.

"I was thinking, you know, big windows to let the light in. Room for Jack to live or visit or whatever he wants."

"That sounds wonderful, Dean."

"Yeah? Okay, and space for anyone who wants to visit. Somewhere not too far away from Lebanon or Sioux Falls. Projector in the living room for movie nights. Barbecue out back. Ooh, and a deck."

Cas had nodded or hummed his approval as Dean built their perfect house with words and the expressive movements of his left hand. He'd gotten a little lost when Dean's plans for the kitchen became somewhat technical and incredibly detailed, but could only be endeared by his enthusiasm.

"I'd like a garden," had been Cas' admission.

"Hell yeah," Dean had replied, and his talk of wildflowers and raised beds and vegetable patches and potting sheds ("which you're not getting me anywhere near, Cas, because those things are like Woodstock for spiders,") told him that Dean had given just as much thought to Cas' garden as he had to his kitchen.

Dean had slowed them to a stop again, and looked out over the water.

"All those years fighting for free will, and now we finally have it … now we're really free … it's kinda terrifying, Cas."

Before them was a wondrous thing that they'd never thought they'd have: a future. For all the giddy joy of endless possibilities, however, there was also the imperious horror of a stark, white page.

Cas had smiled. "I know. But it's also exhilarating."

"Yeah. Now we're writing our own story, right?"

"Dean, we always have been."

And, huh, Dean had thought. Cas is right.

"So," Cas continues, "we'll do what we've always done. We'll just make it up as we go."

Suddenly, the blank page had seemed more like an open road.

"In that case … what do we do now?"

"We drink," Cas had announced, and steered Dean in the direction of the quiet little bar and its scattering of sun loungers. Dean had grinned. He'd married a goddamn genius.

Now, Dean sets down their glasses, and pokes and prods at Cas until he's lying on his back. Cas offers an eye roll, but no resistance. Dean settles down, leaning forward onto Cas, resting his head in the crook of Cas' neck. It's how he'd woken up this morning in the beachfront cabin; it's how he's slept every night since Cas had been back from the Empty. 

Exhaustion sweeps over him and settles into his bones. It's so unlike the tiredness he'd felt before: the fatigue of relentless fear and fighting. This sleepiness has a sweetness to it, born of long days, glorious nights, wide smiles, raucous celebrations, an emotional wedding day, and a particularly athletic wedding night.

Dean rests his left hand on Cas' chest. Cas covers it with his right, before threading their fingers together. His left hand sweeps up Dean's back and settles between his shoulder blades, hugging him closer. Dean wriggles until he's perfectly comfortable, prompting another eye roll (that he can't see but can sense anyway). He pulls their joined hands towards him and kisses Cas' knuckles. Cas lifts them up to his lips and kisses Dean's fingers. Dean dozes.

A little while later, Cas gently kisses the top of Dean's head and murmurs, "Dean, look at the sky," into his hair. Dean lifts his head, reluctantly, and rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand. He looks up, and is stunned by what he sees.

"Wow," is his eloquent response. The sun is setting, and the sea and sky are ablaze with colour. He shifts up in the lounger to get a better view, and glances up at Cas' profile.

"Wow," he can't help but say again. Cas is gorgeous, haloed by the sunset's glow.

Cas looks down to see Dean, smiling, illuminated by the sky's rich reds and oranges and radiant with love and goodness. He's seen galaxies burn in and out of being, but nothing will ever be as breathtakingly beautiful to him as Dean Winchester.

"Wow," he agrees. Cas answers Dean's slight tilt of his chin with a tender kiss to his lips before they snuggle in closer to watch the sunset.

Dean rests in Cas' arms, remembering Mildred and her words of wisdom. Now, more than ever, he wants to live a long and happy life. Now, more than ever, he understands what he has to do. He's going to follow his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. I can be found nesting on [Tumblr](https://hen-of-letters.tumblr.com). Please feel free to drop by and say hello!


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